Speechless
by ThePhantom'strueAngelofMusic
Summary: Christine isn't strong enough to choose the scorpion, and she knows what that means. But what if the grasshopper doesn't jump high enough? I'm not so great at summaries, I hope it's better than it sounds.
1. Chapter 1

***miles long disclaimer coming right up***

If you like, skip over this next bit. It's a disclaimer to serve through the whole story, so I may have gone a bit over the top. I'm nothing if not thorough I guess. 

**Right, so I guess it's about time I start remembering to do this. I do not own anything in this story other then the story idea. All characters belong to Gaston Leroux, and any lyrics I insert do not belong to me, but probably to Andrew Lloyd Webber (who I had a lot more respect for before Love Never Dies and The Phantom of Manhattan.) or a(n) otherwise stated artist(s). This disclaimer goes for the whole story, however long it winds up being. Also, any quotes (recognizable to any who have read Leroux's book) primarily in the prologue, are not mine and belong to the brilliant if dead Gaston Leroux. **

**Enjoy, I hope.**

**-Happy Whatever**

Tears burning with suppressed rage slid down Erik's face, pooling at the bottom of his mask, choking him. Tears that held so much more than just despair- tears that encompassed his life, his anger, his pain, and the brief joy he'd felt with Christine. As he shed his amber gaze a final time of the once polished floor, he lifted the instrument with a disturbing readiness...

"Make your choice! The _wedding mass or the requiem mass_!" His powerful voice seems somehow less commanding as Erik issued the options to his Angel. Some life seemed to have been drained from it, like his soul was slowly unravelling as time went by. It lowered to a darker, more dangerous tone and continued.

"The requiem mass is not very cheerful whereas the wedding mass- believe me- is magnificent! I just can't go on living like this, buried like a mole under the ground!" He ranted, seeming to have forgotten the presence of Christine in the room. How long he had waited for someone-anyone-to see that there was more than him, to see that there was a man behind the monster, but no one had. And his already shattered and clumsily put back together heart couldn't take much more.

Fury overtook Erik and he ripped his mask off, sending it clattering to the ground, and shattering it into many pieces. He whipped around to face the trembling figure of Mlle. Daae, who turned her head away from him.

"Yes or no? If your answer is no, everybody will soon be dead and buried!" he hissed.

Christine, still bound, could only shake her head sadly.

Erik carefully walked closer to her, his steps soundless, like a cat. He quickly undid her binding.

"The grasshopper or the scorpion, my dear." He whispered, his voice sounding like a mere husk of what it once was.

Erik walked to the door of the room, inhaling deeply before turning the knob and stepping out. As the door closed, his parting words echoed around the room.

"Remember, I love you Christine. I do everything for you." He sighed.

For a few minutes, Christine remained sitting on the same chair where she had been bound, unsure of what to do. So many lives in her hands was not what she had wanted. Could she sacrifice them all, so that she wouldn't have to live the days of her live married to that monster outside the room?

Gears clicked into place as she realized what she must do. It would be better for everyone. Erik had promised her to be as gentle as a lamb if he loved her, but this was the _Phantom._ Who knew how long promises from him actually lasted? Who knew if they were actually worth anything at all?

Christine stood, her knees knocking, and her hands shaking with the knowledge of what she was about to do. Her feet seemed to stick to the polished black floor as she walked, her steps echoing loudly in the empty room.

A choked sob escaped her lips when she found herself face to face with the two objects that decided that fate of everyone. The strained cry brought Erik back to the room, softly shutting the door and locking it behind as if such things mattered anymore. He did not look at Christine, for he already knew what she was about to do.

Gently, Christine traced the elegantly carved scorpion, reflecting on the beauty of it, even if it was used for such as ugly purpose. Slowly, reluctantly, her quivering fingers slid to the grasshopper, and clutched at the figurine. No last words issued forth. She had none to give that could express what she felt. Eyes closed as if she might wake and find it all a dream, Christine twisted her fingers and moved the grasshopper.

And the ground under them burst open.


	2. Chapter 2

Dust settled around him as Erik's senses came to, but not his memory. He felt that he was lying on something very uncomfortable, and his mask was askew. His first reaction was to fix it, but his hands came away empty, for the mask had been broken to pieces, and was unable to be fixed, as he soon remembered. Alas, in his fury, he had thrown it off, an action he now regretted in full. An angry groan filled him. He'd have to find his spare. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. Slowly, Erik's memories from flooded back.

The scorpion...the grasshopper...Christine's choice...an explosion. It all added up, expect for one thing. _Why am I still alive?_

The explosion had been meant to kill him, and everyone else. Was the Opera Populaire not in ruins? Was Christine not dead, along with the Viscount and the Persian? Did the managers still arrange for operas over his head?

Pulling himself to a standing position, Erik drank in the scene around him. Perhaps the whole Opera house had not been destroyed, but this part of his lair certainly had been. Pages of music, chucks of the roof and walls, glass, candles, and various other things littered the floor around him.

Erik suppressed a cry of horror. His home was gone. But he was still here. It was the subject of some of his occasional nightmares, when other horrendous parts of his past did not bleed into his sleep.

All thoughts of this, however, were drained from his mind the moment he thought of Christine. Oh God, what if she was still alive, but deathly injured, or dead? Either way, Erik could never forgive himself. He deserved death for harming her. It had been his hope to not have to deal with this...but it was too late now. He had to find her.

His normally blazing amber eyes, which were now mellowed in guilt, scanned the wreckage for any sign of her. He didn't need to see to the Viscount and The Persian. Wherever they were, they were over a gun powder barrel in that area, and surely dead, ripped apart in a bloody end. His only worry was Christine. If he had survived, then there was a chance that she had as well.

Cursing his inept ability (never before had he made such a grave miscalculation), Erik finally spotted a square of milky flesh belonging to Christine Daae. Hope dared to spill into his heart, despite his knowledge that she could well be dead.

Wading through the shattered abode, Erik finally reached her. She appeared unharmed, merely lying in an empty space of floor with rubble around her (there hadn't been a barrel of gunpowder beneath the scorpion and the grasshopper.), but she was not conscious. Anxiety surged through Erik. Perhaps she was dead? But no! Christine was alive! Her pulse beat strong, musical even to Erik's frayed nerves. Even if unplanned, they had both lived. And surely there were areas where his home was salvageable.

Against his better judgement, Erik left his love as she was, lying face down on the floor, dust covering her in a thin layer, to get a view of the outside of the Opera House. Fortunately, his nearby passages had not collapsed in the blast.

From the outside, the Opera Populaire looked as it always had, standing strong and proud. Erik cursed himself, knowing that his plan was thoroughly undone if everyone had lived. How could explain the death of himself and Christine (for it was better to remain dead than to open old shadows) along with the deaths of the Persian, and the Raoul Viscount de Changy? **(A/N I have no clue if that is the proper title or not, it's just what I think it is.)**

Hurrying back to his angel, Erik scouted out the rest of his lair, which appeared undamaged. And he knew that there would be somewhere to hide in there when people – insignificant, nosing people! – came to find bodies when no one re-appeared. And Erik knew full well that it would not be long before someone came to miss the Viscount and connected the dots.

As carefully as he could, Erik dragged Christine from her rather uncomfortable looking position on the floor to a nearby secret passage. He could only hope that he still had access to whatever Christine might need to recover from where they were.

Days had passed. Erik was at a loss.

_Perhaps she shall never wake. Perhaps this is what I deserve._ He thought, raising his head slightly to glance at Christine's still form, her palled hands crossed over her abdomen as Erik had put them before. He knew not how long- one could not keep track of the days here. He slept when tired, ate when hungry, and held no recognition of the passage of time other then agonizing moments that sluggishly crawled by while Christine did not wake.

However, Erik did know of one thing- he _knew_ that she would hate him. A hollow chuckle echoed through the room. He should have planned for this. He should have known.

"Nothing goes right for Erik, not even death." He murmured as a tear squeezed from his left eye. He brushed it away quickly, as if it shamed him to show emotion.

"Erik must not," he growled under his breath, "do that." He reprimanded himself harshly. _Emotion is weakness. There is no room for weakness._

It had been so long. Erik was not concerned over himself seeing the light of day, but he was beginning to think that Christine never would. He had abandoned the idea of not showing any emotion- he knew Christine would never wake. He was sure of it now.

Bending his head over her heart, he allowed warm, salty tears to freely fall from his eyes onto her clothing, soaking it.

"Erik loved you." He whispered. "It was all for you. I never wanted anyone else. And yet cannot you make my misery end? Cannot you let go of life so I can?" He clutched at her cold fingers, sobbing harder. "You knew. You knew Erik would not leave this world without you. That's why you cling to this fleeting existence. To make me pay for my cruelty." Standing, Erik brushed a callused hand over his dark wig, and stepped back from where his angel laid, her once lively face drained of colour and emotion; an image that would haunt him to the end of his days.

"You demon, you have done this on purpose!" He raged, throwing things from tables and overturning chairs. "You knew what you meant to me. You knew what this would do to me. To your poor, unhappy Erik." He again seated himself at her side, calmed considerably.

"And yet it is naught but what I deserve." He barely spoke these words, not moving his lips as he did, but pressing them to his love's forehead.

And at the very same moment, as he closed his eyes, ready to never open them again, his love opened hers.

Erik sensed the change instantly and brought his head up, ashamed of having been as bold as to rest his head near her.

"Christine, please, forgive me, I should not have been so close to you..." Erik stood quickly, and hurried his speech, not giving Christine the chance to speak.

"I...I..." Erik paused in his words, noticing Christine was pointing to herself in a frantic manner.

"Christine?" Erik stepped closer cautiously, but Christine did not change her action. She remained sitting up, pointing to her throat with right index and middle fingers, one on each side. Erik suddenly grasped what she was trying to say.

And for the first time in his life, Erik was speechless.

**Behold the first chapter of my first chaptered story! It's not my best work, so I'm sorry if doesn't seem worth reading beyond this. And I'm sorry there wasn't much dialogue in this chapter, but it was a set up for the plot. **

**Internet cookies if you can figure out what Christine is trying to say!**

**The next chapter should be up within the next week. Check back soon!**

**Happy Whatever!**


	3. Chapter 3

"No. No. No." Erik repeated, rocking back and forth slightly on his feet. He couldn't believe-he didn't want to believe what Christine was trying to say.

"You can't speak." He mumbled his head down, but his eyes still fixed on her. "Can you hear?" he asked. She nodded, the sadness etched onto her face unbreakable. Tears cascaded down her once rosy cheeks. Erik unconsciously stepped back, unsure of what to do. Could he handle this?

_Her voice drew me in. Can I still love her? No. No, there's no point. She won't love me in return. I did this. I ruined her voice. I ruined her __**LIFE.**__ NO! _ Erik argued at himself in his head, knowing that it was his fault his angel had her life's dream ripped from her. He deserved death, and worse in the hell that met him after death.

"No...I...Christine...I'm-"he broke off, a choked cry breaking through the silence. He knew that an apology would never cover this...this horrible mistake he made. Unable to contain his emotions, Erik quickly opened the door and stepped out, leaving Christine a sobbing mess, her world crumbling around her.

When Erik returned, he had composed himself. He carried a large box with him as he opened Christine's door. He had braced himself for her to attack him in some form, but she was simply sitting in a corner, holding her knees to her chest, still crying softly. She looked up at him as he walked across the dark hardwood flooring to her bed.

"Everything you had was destroyed in the explosion. You will need this." He said stiffly. He didn't expect an answer, but Christine looked at him with a confused expression, which Erik didn't see. He dropped the box onto her pillows and left, harshly closing the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Christine stood and opened the box to fin various elegant, expensive looking dresses, hair ribbons, shoes, cloaks, and other items. She glanced down at her tattered white dress, ripped and dirty.

_Time for a change, _she thought briskly, selecting a dress, ribbon, and a pair of shoes.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, clothed in a light pink gown with dark blue lacy edges, and a dark blue ribbon across her waist, tying at the back. At her feet was a pair of pink (the same shade as her dress) shoes. Her flowing golden hair was pinned back as always, and tied with a dark blue ribbon. Gazing at herself, Christine felt happy with the selection she had at her disposal.

She had just finished fixing her hair when Erik reappeared. She turned to face him, a slight blush colouring her cheeks, and Erik averted his eyes from her quickly.

_You don't deserve to look at her, you monster. _ He cried in his head.  
But Christine didn't seem to mind that he had seen her. This shocked Erik- how could she not be absolutely furious with him? He had taken away her voice. Her life! How could she forgive him? He didn't deserve forgiveness; he deserved death for what he had done.  
_Well, it all worked out, didn't it? You should have chosen the scorpion, my dear! Then we would be in a much more pleasant situation! Why did you have to choose the grasshopper? _ Erik reasoned inside his mind that there was nothing more he could have done to stop her- it was her choice, after all, was it not?

Erik broke off mid quarrel in his brain to notice that Christine was staring at him, looking like she didn't understand what was wrong with him.

"Are you okay?" she asked by mouthing the words, pointing at him as she did so.  
Erik, who understood what she trying to say, couldn't reply. He was too stunned. He finally found his voice._  
_"Er- Erik is fine." He stuttered, and then fumbled to find the door handle behind him, walking backwards to the hall and slamming the door after he left, leaving Christine to ponder his actions.

_Why was he so stunned I was concerned about him? Is it wrong for me to care about the man who cares for me, emotionally and physically?_** (A/N – I mean by the dresses and shoes and stuff he gave her. You know, caring for her physical needs, like food and water, and shelter, and clothes. Just to clarify.) **

Christine decided to try the door, and found it was unlocked. To one side of the hall outside her room was a barricade of stone and debris, leaving only one direction for her to go- to the right. Stepping lightly onto the hall's floor, as if she was afraid that Erik would hear her, she crept along the passage to the nearest door, where music sounded from within. She paused for a moment, savouring the sound of the sweet music that filled her soul.  
Christine shook her head, trying to focus on her self- appointed task. She gently rapped on the door, hardly making a sound, but loud enough for the man inside to hear it.

The door cracked open, Erik's face** (A/N- In this he has the full mask.)** half hidden by the rest of the door. The look of shock in his eyes was unmistakable. Even dimmed from what they used to be, Erik's eyes still held expression when caught off guard by something.  
"Chr-Christine?" he gasped. "What are you doing here? You never went to see Erik in his room before." He mumbled, not wanting to drive her away with his initial reaction to her presence at his door.

But Christine seemed unwilling to speak after Erik's outburst.  
Erik sighed, and threw the door open wider. "Come in, and say what you want to say...Christine." He nearly said _my dear_ but he knew better then to assume that she would allow that, and corrected himself before he said it.

Christine awkwardly shimmied past him to sit at the edge of his coffin bed, a look of embarrassment holding her face.  
Erik stood in front of her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She replied by again mouthing the words, putting her right hand flat against her chest, then dragging her hands across each other, and finally putting a hand to her forehead, a look of shame replacing embarrassment.

Slowly, Erik replayed the scene in his mind. "You don't remember?" he guessed.

Christine nodded.

_**Long, but the end bit is important. **_

***GASP!* oh no! Christine can't remember! Anyone see that coming? I hope not. I also hope that you're all enjoying this. Again, not my best work-everything I write these days seems like too much cheese to me, and my inspiration is running a bit dry lately. **

**So, before I let you move on, I would like to say thanks to DeadTom77 and PhantomFan01 for the reviews! Feedback means a lot to me. **

**Keep checking back for the next chapter. Should be up within a week, like this one was. Until then, you'll just have to wait and wonder on what Erik will do. Can he still love her? **

**Wait and see!**

**Oh, and one more thing. I did notice a loose end I forgot to tie up in the prologue. See, this line:** he lifted the instrument with a disturbing readiness... ** Was meant to mean the wedding dress for Christine, if she chose the scorpion, with a disturbing readiness to make her wear it, because let's face it; the whole situation was rather disturbing. **

**But yeah, guess I never really explained that. Sorry. Now you know! If you have a question or anything, feel free to simply send me a PM or a review on the story to ask. I will answer either way you ask, either to you or in the story. **

**Bye!**


	4. Chapter 4

The world seemed to spin around Erik, and he slowly sank into the armchair next to him. She didn't remember. The explosion, the choice, the Vicomte and Persian coming to her rescue, nothing. What could he do? Tell her, scar her for life, make her hate him, and let her leave him here, alone, to die in the cold and dust?  
_It's no more than Erik deserves. _ Erik thought woefully. But this could go a different way, too. He _could_ tell her a lie; make her think that they were together, this was their house, that they were in love, and that the Vicomte de Changy didn't exist, along with the Persian.

_NO! Erik cannot do that to her. What if she someday remembers? Besides, she should know the truth, shouldn't she? _ Erik's thoughts ripped at each other while he stood in silence in front of Christine who was giving him a questioning look.

But maybe it was better if she never knew. She'd be happier. And that was what mattered wasn't it? But could he really do that, lie to her after all this time, and make her love him through another lie? She was mad enough about the Angel of Music lie. But maybe she would never regain her memory. She'd be happier this way, and so would Erik. But the moral compass in Erik's head stopped him from giving in right away. He faltered, and he found that he could not tell her a thing.

"Erik shall explain another day. You are recovering from an accident. You need to rest." He held a hand out, trying to usher her from his room.  
As she left, her feet not making a sound as the hit the floor, she mouthed "_Soon, please." _tohim, and then allowed him to shut the door behind her.  
Inside the room, Erik sunk to his floor, tears collecting at the bottom of his mask.

Back in her room, Christine sat on her swan bed, confused. Why would the man- Erik, she supposed, after hearing him speak his name- not tell her? Did she do something? Did something happen that was her fault? Was she a thief, a murderer, or a con artist? Was she high society? Was she the king's wife? Was she a widow with three children waiting for her somewhere? She had no idea. What could she have possibly done that Erik would need to time to summon the courage to tell her what had happened?

_Am I a bad person? _ Christine thought, tears pooling in her sky blue eyes and leaking onto her skin. _What reason do I have for being a bad person? Am I homeless, poor, starving, or outright scared? _ Various situations ran through her head, none of them holding any comfort for her. All they did was made her cry more.

_WHO AM I? _

At the opposite end of the hall, Erik remained on the floor, his brain arguing and taking side for and against telling her the truth. There were so many different pros and cons to each situation- how could he pick? But Erik knew that he could not simply leave her in the dark, whether he illuminated her with lie or the truth was a moot point. It was all down to his rather askew moral compass. And currently, it told him to tell her what really happened, so she could go on with her life, forget him, be happy, find someone else who didn't have to hide in the dark and kill to live. But the knowledge that she chose to ignite the gunpowder rather than marry him would haunt her to the end of her days, and he knew that meant the for her, happiness wasn't much of an option for her future. So in the end, what would benefit them both?

War raged in the minds of them both, locked into their rooms, tears collecting on the floor. Neither of them really knew what to do, but Erik was in the worse position. The fate of them both in his hands, night closed in around what was left of his lair. Neither he nor Christine left that night for what little food or water was in the kitchen. Both fell asleep hugging themselves, curled up on the floor, thoughts still raging in their heads about the monster that lay at their feet.

Even with all accesses to a time teller of any sort blocked, they both awoke at day break, their internal body clocks having not abandoned them yet. Dried tears coated their faces, and they were stiff from falling asleep in a sitting position.

Erik awoke first, and quickly stood, smoothing his clothing, ashamed to be sleeping on the floor like a child. He fixed his mask, which was slightly askew, and went to change clothes in the bathroom connected to his room. All the while, he thought about his choice. Sleep had given him an answer, dreams acting the various consequences of each decision. He knew which would be better for the both of them in the long run, and he had to tell her as soon as he saw her.

In her room, Christine was wiping away her tear stains, and fixing her hair. She had already changed, today's dress being one of simple burgundy with white lace at her throat. Her shoes matched, and her hair was tied back with a white ribbon. And she wanted answers- she was prepared to demand them of this "Erik". What right did this man, who seemed too afraid to show her his face, have to deny her facts of her recent life?  
_None! _ Christine declared in her mind.

She left the vanity mirror to walk to her door, only to find Erik on the other side. She let out a silent gasp, and stumbled back. Erik gave her a gentlemanly bow before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

"Christine. Erik has to tell you what happened." He started, nervously shifting his fingers as he sat Christine down on her swan bed. He was about to continue standing up, but she insisted that he sit by patting the bed next to her.  
Erik gave her a slight smile and joined her. His lips opened, and he began to spin a tale of them, happy, living in his house, but there was an explosion for unknown purposes, and the entire left section of the house had collapsed, blocking them from society. At this point, Christine interrupted by tapping his shoulder. She mouthed the words and mined eating and drinking, then shrugged.

"I have an extensive stockpile of food and drink." Erik said quickly, so she didn't think he still had access to the above ground world. Christine seemed to accept this, and nodded for him to continue his tale.  
Erik told her that after the incident, she was injured and in a coma for several days. How long, he knew not. But he did admit that every second that passed felt like a year without her awake. At this point Christine again stopped his, asking him if they were married by pointing to herself and then him, then to her ring finger. Before Erik could stop himself, he nodded. Christine looked at him shyly, then motioned between the two of them, then pointed at her lips.

At first Erik was confused. Then, he realized. Shock pricked through him. _She's asking if she can kiss me._ Erik nodded, trying to smile and hide his shock at her question as she leaned towards him and gently pressed her rosy lips to his malformed, papery ones. Then she mouthed _thank you for taking care of me_ while pointing at herself and then the bed.

"It was no issue, my dear." Erik said, trying to sound calm, like her kissing him was a normal occurrence. "I'm just glad you're okay." His voice faltered slightly. He leaned to her, his arms raising hesitantly, and awkwardly wrapping around her. She didn't seem to notice anything and leaned into his chest, resting one hand on his back and one on his shoulder, pleased at their sudden embrace. She had been about to ask him about his mask, but that could wait. At for the first time in a long time, as Christine cuddled against him, Erik thought that maybe everything could be alright.

**Okay, so this chapter was a little sappy, but I promise the next chapter has some violence in it! It's not all hugs and kisses. Look at that, updating twice in a day. I'd say you're welcome, but I don't know if anyone is enjoying this. *cough review cough* **

**Until next time! Hopefully the next chapter will be up within the next few days. But I'm busy on Wednesday, so it may or may not be before then. **

**-Happy Whatever**


	5. Chapter 5

Unwillingly, Erik slowly disentangled himself from Christine's embrace, and stood. She nodded at him, but grabbed his arm as he turned. She pointed at herself and then him, and the bed; mouthing the words _can we sleep in the same bed? It's cold here _topping it off her actions with a false shiver and a hopeful smile. Erik nearly said yes- but even if he had convinced her that they had been married, guilt still hung over him and he couldn't accept. Not yet. He tried to look disappointed, and told her that he couldn't because he had work to do.

"That's why we have different rooms, because I often work late." He explained. Christine frowned, but accepted this and let go of his arm. He gave her a wave, and left, closing the door slower than normal behind him.

Behind the door, Christine broke into a wide grin despite the fact that Erik couldn't be with her for the night. Happiness seemed to have taken an active role in her life now.

But Erik was not as happy. He had Christine now- but he did not have her trust. It was a lie- and if she ever regained her memory, she would kill him. He dropped onto the edge of his coffin bed, soothingly rubbing his temples in small circles. He knew he'd have to get over this. It was better for them both. Exasperated with his brain, he fell back onto his pillows, still thinking. How far would he be able to take the facade? Would Christine ever realize that something wasn't right with her 'husband'? What if she tried to, once again, take off his mask? That would start everything all over again, the last thing he wanted.  
And so Erik fell asleep, troubling thoughts swimming through his mind, bubbling at the surface of his brain.

Across the hall, Christine too remained awake, thinking. If Erik was her husband, why did he seem nervous around her?  
_Did I do something to him? _Anxiety surged through her. She decided to simply ask him more questions tomorrow. Find the other facts that she was missing from her recent life. He didn't have the right to keep any part of her past from her. Especially since she was his wife. And as she slipped into a dreamless sleep, Christine knew what she would ask tomorrow.

By the time Christine had woken and dressed in a deep emerald green dress with light blue lacy trim, deep green shoes, and a light blue hair ribbon, Erik was already up, sitting at his at his organ, which hadn't destroyed, looking for composing paper. Christine stepped as lightly as she could, but Erik heard her anyway.

"Good morning, my dear." He said lightly, fishing some paper off the floor and putting it on his organ. Christine tapped his shoulder, a half smile on her face. Erik turned to be surprised when Christine wrapped her arms around him for a brief second, then retracted and brushed her lips against his. It took him a minute to remember that they were "married" now. He returned the hug and the slight kiss, and then watched for Christine's reaction. She didn't seem bothered by anything he did. He was about to turn away from her and start playing music, but she stopped him by waving her arms around.  
_Do you love me? _ She asked by pointing at him, then herself, and then making a heart at the left corner of her chest. Erik swallowed, and opened his mouth to reply, but found that his tongue seemed to stick to the floor of his mouth. He closed his mouth and instead nodded.

Christine stared at him for a second, then sat on the chair he had nearby. _Why can't you show me your face then?_ She asked, shrugging and indicating his face.  
Erik froze. He _knew_ that she would ask this at some point. He just had to let her know how ugly and deformed he was without making her take off his mask again or flee from him. He'd had an explanation ready, but the second she asked him about his mask it flew from his head.

_If you love me, you can show me your face, Erik. Please._ Christine repeated through various hand motions, standing and walking over to him. At last Erik found his voice, but it was too late. A rush of cold air hit his exposed face, and he let lose a shriek of surprise and anger. Christine jumped back, her face contorted in a mute scream of horror, as Erik fled from the room. His voice echoed as he left.

"You WILL PAY FOR THIS!" Erik cried, his hands covering his face. The next thing Christine heard was the sound of a door slamming shut in anger.

**Gasp! Christine's done it again! *sighs* will she ever learn? I know I said it would get more violent, but that didn't really translate into this chapter as well as I thought it would. But it will within the next few, trust me. Also, sorry this chapter is a bit shorter. Again, with not much dialogue and not even covering a very long time span. You people are enjoying this right? I hope so. **

**Also, I'd like to thank DeadTom77, PhantomFan01, and CLASSICDUH for the reviews! They mean a lot to me. Reviews are better than cookies! ****J**

**And! I know that I've had Christine as a mute for this from the explosion. Well, it occurred to me it may help you to understand what she's saying if my readers can look up words in sign language. Since I have been teaching myself some sign language, I just so happen to know where to find an online ASL dictionary. Just look up ASL dictionary, (preferably with Google) and click on the first one.  
**

**Hope it helps, if you were confused at all about Christine's hand movements.  
**

**Until next time, if you plan to continue reading, anyway. **

**-Happy Whatever**


	6. Chapter 6

**Eek! So much time went by since the last time I updated. And I promised myself I wouldn't be the author who abandons her stories. *sigh*. And yet somehow a month went by- I wouldn't be at all surprised if someone you either stopped reading, gave up on my story, or give me a piece of your mind in a review. **

**I'm sorry. My schedule sort of clogged with family, a birthday, back to school shopping, and various other things, including getting sick twice. Forgive me, my faithful readers! And I'd like to say, writer's block picked on me a lot this summer. So that's why this chapter is so late. I've never planned for it to go past five chapters, and then behold! It does! So I knew what to end it with, but not quite so sure how to get there anymore. And now that I've worked it out, the next chapters shouldn't be as long a wait as this one was.**

**So if you were wondering why I had dropped off the face of the earth, there you go! And now, on with the story!**

Even as Erik left, Christine felt unable to move, frozen by what she had seen. It flashed through her mind, fear and hate and pity following it at every turn. She watched as Erik fled the room, covering his face as best he could with both hands, leaving Christine alone, ambivalence etched onto her face. Erik's resounding cry of "YOU WILL PAY" still rang in her ears for the long minutes after he had left. She gazed at the floor in shame.

_What have I done?_

Elsewhere, in his room, Erik was curled into a ball on his coffin bed, his skeletal frame poking at his stretched, yellowish skin where he bent his thin body. Erik found that he was crying more than ever these days, letting his weaker emotions ravage him with Christine there. And he hated it. It made him feel like a child, prey to the most simply of humanly emotions, emotions the Phantom of the Opera, that Erik, did not have. But the weakest he had felt was now.

_So she has once again seen her poor, unhappy Erik's face. Now it will be like before. She will hate me and wish to kill me, and run from Erik with someone else! Not that Erik deserves his angel anyway._ Bitter tears slipped onto his pillow as bitter thoughts pooled in his mind until he finally exhausted himself enough to sleep in a dreamless haze.

However, across the hallway, Christine was doing the same. Lying on her side, head in her pillows, crying.

_Erik is my husband! I should have trusted him. He loves me, and never wanted me to see this! He'll hate me, want me gone, and I'll be alone with nothing- no memory of recent life. Oh Erik, I'm so sorry!_ She let lose gasping sobs until she cried herself into a fitful sleep, still dressed in her day clothing.

When she awoke, Christine has no inkling of if it was night or day. Being without the sun greatly depressed her, and made her long for fresh air and a sunrise. She couldn't remember what they looked like, but she knew that they were beautiful.

_With his face, did Erik ever see a sunrise? _

Christine shook her head to clear her thoughts. There must be more the Erik, something that made her love him. After all, she did marry him, didn't she?

_I __will__ apologize to my Erik. If I married him, then I must have learned to see past his face. I will do it again. For him. _She vowed in her mind. Dressing quickly in a simply gown of soft red with black lace, black shoes and a black hair ribbon, she quickly and quietly exited her assigned room and crossed the hall to gingerly rap on Erik's wooden door, her heart pounding violently in anticipation. She could have sworn that if it beat any harder, her heart would have ripped from her chest. Each second she waited for Erik to answer his door was a lifetime.

**Hello again! Just a quick message this time. I promise that I will try to get the next chapter up much sooner, and thanks to Deadtom77, Vamp-Fledging, and PhantomFan01 for the lovely reviews last chapter. **

**And Vamp-Fledging, I must agree that LND simply didn't agree with me, and you can be sure that I will never touch into that. I hated it, because it distorted every character it touched. *sigh* what was ALW thinking?**

**Okay, I'm done. Sorry this chapter was short, but I promise that the next one will be longer, and not as much me and more actually story. Till then!**

**Bye!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello again! See, sooner than last time, like I promised! **

**To phangirl2017, (And thank you for the review, phangirl2017! and the compliment.) **

**Leroux technically didn't give an age, and I'm ashamed to say that I've never read the Kay version. I am going to buy it though, soon. So Unless Kay gave Erik an age, then it would be older, probably in his late forties or fifties or so. I know you said you don't want to hear that, but we can assume that he is much older than Christine, who should be around age twenty or so, particularly because of this sentence in the original book at the end when Erik is letting Christine look into his torture chamber: "**_Oh, my love! You're so sweet! How kind of you to spare me the effort at my age!"_** Implying that he was much older than her. I know it sounds sort of creepy, but at the time, it was normal. Women didn't often have a husband their age- most were in their forties or so. **

**So I know that's exactly what you didn't want to hear, but he would be around his forty to fifty age in the Leroux book, from what I've heard and found, so that's around where he is in this story, and Christine is around her late teens early twenties. Unless Kay gave them ages that I'm unaware of, seeing my lack of having read that book just yet, that's how it is, I suppose. **

**I do love my reviews.**

**Also ****thanks to ****The Phantomess99, newbornphanatic, and PhantomFan01****. **

Slowly, the door creaked open revealing Erik's face, hidden by his bony yellowish hands, obviously trying to shield her from his ugliness, having removed his mask so that he could cry freely. Christine sighed and gently pushed past him into his room, not bothering to shut the door behind her before sitting at the edge of his coffin bed and looking at him expectantly, as if expecting him to do something. Inside Erik's mind, he was in a frenzy, unsure of what to make of this and what to do, and what, if anything, to say to her.

He quickly turned and blindly reached for his mask, only to wince as Christine's warm skin came into contact with his chilled hands, swiping the offending object from his fingers before he could react.  
"Christine, no-" he started to protest, but was cut off by a slightly impatient Christine smacking his shoulder gently. He fell silent and gazed at her, only his amber eyes were visible behind his long, thin fingers, darting around as if afraid to look at Christine and see what she thought of him written on her face.

_Erik, I don't care about your face. I care about you._ She said simply through hand motions, expressions, and mouthing the words as she tried to communicate with him. She cringed slightly as his hands seemed ready to drop, cursing internally.  
_It'll take me time to get used to it, but Erik, I must have married you for a reason. I must have loved you. So I don't care about your face, and I surely didn't care about it before I lost my memory. _She tried again, relief flowing through her as she realized that Erik didn't notice her try to back away as he finally allowed his hands to drop, hesitantly showing her his face once more. Christine gazed at him.

His yellowed skin seemed stretched to cover the bone, giving his head the appearance of a skull whose flesh and hair had rotted away over time. A few black strands of limp hair were pasted against Erik's head in all directions, his wig having slipped off when Christine removed his mask, sweat plastering it to his head. His deep set eyes were merely yellow spots near his absence of a nose. Where his nostrils would have been was nothing but two vast and dark cavities. It was the face that haunted the nightmares of children.  
_How did I ever learn to see past __**this? **_Christine shuddered internally, but managed a smile and wrapped her arms around Erik in a gentle hug that left him breathless, and too stunned to return the embrace. He let loose a soft cry of happiness, closed his eyes, trying to savour the moment.

But it was over all too soon. Christine released her hold around his thin waist and mimed _I'm leaving. I'll be in my room if you need me_ and slipped out the door. Erik stared after her, frozen to the spot.

_Could losing her memory have changed her personality? Is she going blind? Or...is my angel lying to me to preserve my feelings? _ At the last possibility, Erik's heart sank to his shoes. That must be it. No one could stand him- the only reason that no one tried to be cruel to him anymore was because most were wise enough to know that you do not anger the Phantom of the Opera. And even without her memory, perhaps Christine knew that she shouldn't? Or was the reality of life before the grasshopper starting to bleed back into her mind?

How much longer could his lie last before Christine realized that life was not so simple?

**Hello again! Again, this chapter isn't too long. But then, are any of them? I don't mean to make them this short, really, but I end the chapters where I think it reaches a natural stopping point with some suspense added in for good measure. **

**I'm sad to say that this story is almost at an end- maybe one or two more chapters and then the finale. HOWEVER! I have also decided that since I wasn't entirely sure if this would have a happy ending or not (I don't tend to write happy endings) that I will do two endings. One happy, one unhappy. You can read both, or pick which you want to read. Be warned- unhappy is, well, very unhappy. **

**Bye!**


	8. Chapter 8

Across the hall, Christine lay on her bed, her golden hair down and curling around her on the pillow, her blue eyes gazing rather unseeingly at the ceiling. She was too involved in thought to really think about what this looked like. Seeing Erik's face had stirred something within her, and made her feel like there was more to him, to this...living arrangement, or the relationship that they had. Something didn't feel quite right. Like they were hiding something, a secret. Were they thieves? Meant to be dead? Fugitives? Questions flooded through Christine's mind the same way that they had when she first awoke to find this strange masked man at her bedside and her voice gone, taking her memory with it. So many unanswered questions that never really held a point to her before were now in the forefront of her brain, begging for answers. But she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answers she'd receive.

Besides, Erik probably wouldn't tell her anything. If she had learned anything, it was that Erik was a very secretive man. Christine didn't even know his last name!  
_And, _she added as an afterthought, _my last name too, I suppose. _ She didn't want to doubt that they were married. Could any man really be so cruel as to lie about that? If they weren't married, then what else in her life were false facts?

At the other end of the small hallway, like so many times before, Erik was also in the middle of deep thought at the same time as Christine. He too was curled up once more on his coffin bed, questions, angers, thoughts, and conclusions racing through his superior mind. If Christine figured it all out, how long would he have before then? Would it be possible to keep her from remembering somehow, or make her fall in love with him?  
_Or is Erik just being paranoid? _Erik let out a humourless chuckle at the thought. It wouldn't be the first time he had been wrong about something, though those times were rare indeed.  
But then, perhaps Erik's conscience was right- maybe he shouldn't have lied to her about them being married and everything else. Maybe she would have loved him if he was honest?

Both of them plagued by endless queries, they both fell into a deep sleep.

~POTO~

Rage. Desire. Passion. Hate. So many emotions flitted through Christine's body that she couldn't keep track of them as they ravaged her. Love, and hate...those two confused her more than any of the others. They were dancing around each other, daring the other to defeat it, but neither could. It was like they were permanently entwined, but that made no sense. Love and hate could never exist together, could they?  
No, that thought was absurd! Christine let out a small, mute laugh at the very thought of the two opposites co-existing as such. But at the mirthful expression, both rose up at her, towering hundreds of feet above the young girl, hissing and screeching at her, ready to attack at her scorn. They leaped, shredding her gown and tearing her to pieces, blood pooling thick and bright underneath her limp body...

Christine silently gasped and jerked awake from her strange dream, breathing heavily and very confused. _What could have possibly brought that on? _She wondered, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead and lowering herself to her pillow, resisting the urge to go to Erik's room and ask for him to comfort her. No. Something about him felt...wrong. And she had to find out what it was before she trusted him again. She needed to know if he had lied to her.  
Allowing the lids on her sky blue eyes to gently slide shut once more, she fought to put the dream from her mind and go back to sleep, only for the darkness to turn into another disturbing dream...

~POTO~

Erik let out a soft yawn, his deformed lips stretching to draw in air. He sat up, removing the covers from his lanky frame, and stood, realizing that this was the first night in years that he had slept more the two or three hours at a time. He'd actually had a _restful_ sleep!  
He allowed himself a small, discreet smile as he selected a clean suit and a full black mask and went to change, promising himself to visit Christine and act like a real husband to her for once, while there was still time.

But when he knocked on Christine's door, she opened it, fully dressed in a dark purple gown, split into two sides with a black lacy front with a gentle flower design on it, and long purple sleeves reaching into a u-shaped neckline with purple shoes and a black hair ribbon. Erik swallowed, struggling to find his voice.  
"You look...so beautiful, my Christine." He managed with a slight smile. But she did not smile back.  
Erik frowned.  
"Is something wrong, Angel?" he asked, taking her hand against his better instinct. "Can Erik help?"

Christine simply gazed at him for a moment, then released a mute sigh and asked for a quill and ink with paper through hand motions. Erik nodded and left for his room, returning shortly with a writing utensil, an ink jar, and a sheet of blank, yellowish-white paper for her and handed the objects to her. She cringed slightly as their hands touched, sending a shock through Erik's hand. He frowned again, the worst case scenario popping into his head.

Christine looked pained, and bending her head, began to write. When she finished, Christine handed the inky page to Erik, and he read it, hardly daring to breath.

_Erik, _

_You should know that I remember now. Everything. My full name. The Opera house above us, Raoul Viscount de Changy, my fiancée, and the Persian trapped in the chamber of endless trees. The scorpion and the grasshopper. And I remember that you are the Phantom of the Opera, the man who nearly killed us all._

_I know you lied._

**So Christine remembers. Hope no one thought that was too predictable. And I must say, Christine is at fault a bit here because she's the one who refused to marry Erik and instead decided to endanger thousands of people...even in the book it was a hard choice for her. In my opinion it's just a reveal of how shallow she really is, to need to think about which is more important.  
Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed that chapter! It's the last one before the two endings.**

**See, this is more like how I used to update. Bit longer, bit more plot advancement. Although I am sorry that this isn't the best chapter I've written. Sort of rushed and not done as well as it could have been, and I think I had Christine a bit out of character. But hey, I tried! Thanks for reading anyway.**

**Thanks to newbornphanatic and phangirl2017 for the lovely reviews! Cookies to you both. I've decided that make sure that I don't leave anyone hanging for the ending, I'll write them both and stick them into the story at the same time. But at any rate, the happy ending will appear first. This was the last chapter before it, so after this, comes the happy ending and then the sad ending. I know that the ending of this story was a bit rushed in publishing, but I'd rather finish it before I have to go back to school and get clogged with homework . So both endings should appear within the week, or at least before Tuesday, when I go back to school, I hope. **

**To phangirl2017- no problem! I like getting asked questions though I can assure you I didn't intend for it to be two paragraphs long...  
Ah, the musical. I love the music and lyrics, they're addicting. I know everyone's lines by heart, the phan I am. **

**To newbornphanatic- Hmm. don't think I've ever made anyone cry, but let me know if you do! I hope it won't be too sad, but I can get a bit carried away with my writing, especially the sadder stuff that I write. But I'd love your opinion on both endings!**

**And everyone else! I'd love your opinions on my story!**

**Till the endings! And sorry this was so long! That's me, long winded...**

**Bye!**


	9. Happy End

**Okay, gotta say- very cheesy, very EC, and rather out of character Christine and Erik. But if you wanted Christine to forgive Erik and fall in love with him, here you are!**

**Be prepared for complete and utter EC cheese...**

**...Can't believe I'm letting myself get away with something this cheesy... Forgive me, Cheese Gods! (Keep in mind this is the first 'happy' ending I've written in my life...)**

Erik, unsure of what to do, was about to stand and exit the room with as much dignity as possible, but was stopped in his tracks by Christine's warm hand clinging lightly to his deathly cold arm. She waved her hands a bit, telling him to wait, and started to write again.

_But Erik, wait! I don't care. You were doing it to help me, to let me get on with my life and love someone again. You did for me. And I know that! Don't go!_

The noted pleaded with him to stay with her, and told him that she understood why he did it. But that wasn't possible.

_Erik is a monster. Monsters don't get sympathy or love. She must be lying! _Erik concluded and was about to stalk out of the room again when Christine tugged at his sleeve once more and held another paragraph up to Erik's amber eyes.

_Erik, I know that I made the wrong choice. I never gave you the chance to show me you and instead provoked you into doing what you did. If you'll forgive me, then marry me for real. Because I love you, Erik. As much as you love me._

No sooner had Erik finished dragging his eyes across this information and taking in the meaning of the words then Christine leaped from her spot on her bed and crashed her lips to Erik's in a passionate kiss that enveloped them both. Forgetting the moment, Erik kissed her back, raising his arms to set them at her back and lean into her body as they continued, stopping only for air.

As Christine stepped back and brushed her hair from her eyes, she motioned _I love you _to Erik and hugged him once more.

_Maybe, _Erik thought as he gingerly returned the hug, _everything is okay now._

**Short and to the point, I know. It's the worst thing I've ever written...I'm personally much more proud of the sad ending, because that's my normal writing style- angst, death, and despair. Lovely. **

**Hey, let me know what you think anyway, just be kind! **

**Next, the sad ending. This may not be the right reading material for some of you. For more information, look at the next ending's first few lines.**

**Till then!**

**Bye!**


	10. Sad End

_**WARNING! CHARACTER DEATH**_

**...AND IT'S A BIT MESSED UP TOO, ACTUALLY...  
If you dislike Character death or dark dealings, then I don't recommend you read this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you!  
On with the Sad Ending, I guess!**

Erik turned white. He just _knew_ that she would remember. And he was the monster that lied to her!  
_It's all Erik's fault! Erik is nothing but a scheming, monstrous demon that ruins lives! Oh that the dear loyal daroga could see me now! Ha! What would he think of the monster? Oh that Christine could the mind of her poor unhappy Erik and know the pain of his deceit...  
_Erik's internal rant soon spilled into his melodic voice and frightened Christine to the other end of the room, where she crouched into a corner and shielded her head as if worried he would throw something at her or strike her.

Seeing his angel frightened of him only made Erik more upset, sending him into a fit of sobs and berating of himself before finally crawling from the room and into his own, the resounding thwack of his closing door shaking Christine's walls.

Even though he was gone, Christine did not move from her place on the cold floor, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, crying into the heavy skirts of her expensive gown.

_What have I done? I've made my situation worse. _ She lamented in her mind.

~POTO~

Erik fell into his coffin bed, collapsing with his head buried into the pillow, deep and heart wrenching sobs ripping from his chest and echoing in the room around him.  
_It's all Erik's fault, but Erik should have expected it. Oh yes! For no one can love this monster, this face! The face not even a mother can love! _

_**What is there left for me?**_ Was a shared thought between them. Despair gripped them both, and neither could see a point to it all anymore. Christine thought that the Opera Populaire was gone, meaning her life and friends. Erik knew that she would never so much as want to look at Erik now, even with his mask on.

Both knew what they would do to make the days of the one from across the hall happy.

~POTO~

It was the next morning that the rubble blocking the left half of Erik's lair was blasted away from the entrance, and police forced their way in to the ruined sections. All they could find was rubble until one man found an undamaged tunnel leading to the right half. Several men explored it to find three rooms. One was an office like room with a desk covered in sheet music, obviously the work of a genius. One room was empty, but contained expensive furniture, a bathroom and female clothing. And then there was the other room.

Inside was a desk, again with music, a bathroom, male clothing and a coffin bed. On the bed was the body of man wearing a mask, holding a golden ring in his clammy fingers with a tight grasp, a smile etched onto the face, lying perfectly straight, a bloodied dagger nearby and a wound in the chest, leaking blood onto the already red blankets.

To the right on the bed was the body of a girl, holding loosely in one hand a bottle of what they later found to be poison, with tumbling gold hair, curved around the man, her arms clasped at his torso and a smile also gracing her still features and if she died embracing her love.

It wasn't until they removed the bodies that they found the girl was clasping a note as well, with a simple message.

_When we are found, bury me him. Because I wasn't with him in life, so I will be in death._

**Right, so for those of you who didn't quite understand what happened, Erik went to his room and committed suicide because Christine hated him and thought that would make her happy. Christine knew she was essentially trapped there and went to tell that she loved him, even though it was a lie, and found him dead, so decided to join him to make his spirit happy. **

**I said it was sad a bit messed up.**

**So, that's it. That's the end of Speechless. Hope everyone enjoyed. Feel free to leave reviews or PM me, or read my other stories.**

**Thanks to Everyone who reviewed and took the time to read this far! **

**Until next time! :D**

**-TPTAOM**


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